


tongue tied

by thumbsforammo



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tour Bus, Tour Fic, Trench Era, bandito tour, don’t worry there’s no cheating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-09-29 18:30:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thumbsforammo/pseuds/thumbsforammo
Summary: sometimes they're forced to cancel shows. sometimes they can't come back.





	1. JITTERS

**Author's Note:**

> please keep an eye on the tags and archive warnings as those may change as this story progresses. i only want you reading what you’re comfortable with, please stay safe!!
> 
> you can contact me anytime on my [tumblr](https://thumbsforammo.tumblr.com).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s the first chapter!! it’s a bit short but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Tyler is bouncing from one foot to the other. The pre-show jitters are bad tonight, worse than usual. I rub between his shoulder blades where there's a knot in his muscles and he leans into my hand, eyes closed. His hands still have the occasional tremor but at least he's stopped bouncing. 

A stage tech rushes up, "They're almost ready for you on stage." She's out of breath.

Tyler doesn't open his eyes or make any indication that he's heard her. I murmur a thanks and she leaves us alone. The hallway is empty now, everyone but us in their respective stations. My hand moves to the nape of Tyler's neck.

"It's time to head out there," I say softly. He hums a response. I look down and adjust my grip on my torch. When I look back up at Tyler, his eyes are open and he's staring right at me. I expect him to smile at me like he always does, ready to do what he loves in front of thousands of people, but his face remains emotionless. It's unnerving and I take a step back. 

Tyler looks away and goes on stage without a word. The double doors shut behind him harshly. There's no blast of cheering when he arrives, the curtains still hiding his presence from the audience. They have no idea he's there, and I have no idea what's wrong with him. I feel like I should have some sort of best friend sixth sense, but there's nothing. He's just off and I don't know how to help him. He's gotten like this before but never this bad and never on this tour. At least not that I've seen.

I follow his lead and head out onto stage. The venue is packed with chants and mindless chatter. The air screams excitement and anticipation. Tyler is across the stage from me. Even in the dim lighting I can see his blank eyes as he fiddles with his mic stand.

Nonetheless, the show proceeds without a hitch. Tyler is smiling as soon as the spotlights flicker on and the stadium erupts with noise. Maybe he moves with a little less enthusiasm, but I'm the only one who would notice something as subtle as that.

When we bow at the end, when he drapes his arm around my shoulders, when he leans in and tells me how many yellow flowers he spotted in the crowd tonight, I feel that best friend sixth sense I yearned for earlier. It's my heart doing funny beats and telling me he's better. It's my brain full of honey thoughts that remind me that things always turn out in the end. It's the little squeeze Tyler gives my shoulder and the whisper of his breath on my neck when he hugs me that tells me that he's back to his old self, that he's going to be okay.

Except my body won't listen to me when I tell it there's nothing to worry about anymore. I think my shaking fingers were trying to warn me of something, like how Tyler's brain has felt like it's on fire and that for the last two weeks he's been afraid his legs are going to give out at any moment but that he won't tell anyone about it for another few days.

He's bending over the snack table in his dressing room when I find him again. I put my hand on his and he leans into me. He always feels so fragile in that moment right after the show, when the confetti is being swept up and the adrenaline is only just beginning to wear off. It's like I could just breathe on him and he'd snap in half. He's sweaty and hot and I peg his sigh of relief on pure exhaustion.

I don't have to say anything for him to know it's time to leave. Nearly everyone in the crowd has left by now and it's almost time for us to migrate to our tour buses. Security will follow us out of course, but I still want to make sure Tyler makes it into his bus safely. I still can't help but worry about him all the time.

He pushes his face into my shirt. "You smell nice."

"I hope so, I just showered."

He smiles to himself. "I need to change. I'm still in my stinky stage clothes."

He doesn't even seem capable to stand on his own, let alone get changed.

"Do you need me to stay?" I ask, pressing my face into his hair. He’s so warm. He shakes his head and I rub his back one last time before I untangle myself from his arms. I close the door behind me and hear the lock click. I stay there with my hand on the doorknob and listen to Tyler rummage through his suitcase and start the shower. I step away when I hear the shower curtain open and close. I'm instantly ushered away by a security guard. He herds me to my bus, ignoring my complaints about leaving Tyler behind.

When I open my tour bus door I immediately hear Jim's nails hit the hardwood and click over to me. He wags his tail furiously and paws at my legs when he sees me. I stroke his head and he sits on my foot. His little pants are calming.

Tyler is a grown man, I reassure myself, he doesn't need me protecting him every moment of every day. Those months earlier this year were the only exception. They were unimaginably hard, for both of us. But he's not that same person, he's grown. He'll be fine.


	2. LOCKED DOORS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year!! a bit of forewarning for this chapter: there are heavy themes and instances of self-harm, suicide, and death. please be safe, your comfort = my priority. if you need a chapter summary, contact me on my [tumblr](https://gunsforhandsmv.tumblr.com/).

The tour buses haven't moved yet. In fact none of the vehicles have. It's nearly 2 am and we still haven't left this venue. We're way behind schedule. I get up from my sofa and Jim lifts his head from the cushion sleepily, watching me with big eyes and leaping up when he sees me open the door.

I lean down and stroke his head. "Sorry bud, you can't come with me this time, but I won't be long. I just need to see what the holdup is."

He watches me leave but stays put. There's no one outside the buses. The night is quiet, the air cold. My nose is already burning and I fold my arms to try to retain some heat. I see Mark come out the back doors of the venue and run over to him.

"Why haven't we left yet?" I ask, shivering slightly.

"I think it's because of Tyler. No one's heard from him since just after the show."

"That was three hours ago," I say, "Has no one looked for him?"

He shrugs. "We knocked on his bus door and tried his dressing room but they were both locked. This isn't abnormal for him, you know this. He probably just fell asleep in his dressing room."

"I'll go check on him. We should really be heading out so we have time to set up at the next venue."

Mark nods. "Good idea, he's less likely to get pissed if you're the one who wakes him up."

I chuckle. "Yeah he'd probably punch you if you were the one that did it."

Mark smiles as I walk away, heading in the direction he came from. The hallways are warm and empty, the fluorescent lights overhead burning harshly. Tyler's dressing room is three doors and a branching hallway down from the main exit. My footsteps echo off of the concrete walls. It's eerily quiet.

When I reach Tyler's door I knock softly. No answer. I knock a little louder. I think I hear a noise from inside. I wiggle the doorknob but it's still locked. I knock again, this time adding a quiet "Tyler?" Now I'm sure I heard something, a groan maybe. I wait a moment, but the room falls silent again. I know I have to get in this room. A janitor wanders by, rolling a mop bucket behind him.

"Excuse me, sir?" I say. He stops and faces me. "Do you have the keys to this dressing room?"

He nods. "What do you need them for?"

"I left something in there and it's been locked." The lie slips out easily. Who's he to deny me access into a dressing room I had just been using?

He looks skeptical but digs a ring of keys out of his pocket anyway. With the door now unlocked I burst in. None of Tyler's things are packed and he's nowhere to be seen. There's a cup of microwaveable mac and cheese spilled on the counter next to an open microwave. The bathroom door is shut, yellow light trickling out from under it. I knock and, when I hear nothing, open the door. It's not locked. 

I see Tyler laying in the bathtub and almost leave and close the door behind me when I realize that he's unconscious. He's laying on his back, left arm sticking out over the edge of the tub. He's got a towel haphazardly draped over his lower half and it's then that I notice the blood. It's stained the edge of the towel that is on his stomach and I can hear a steady drip hit the bottom of the tub. There's a razor blade on the floor beneath his hand. My whole body shakes.

I kneel next to the tub and run my fingers through his hair and he stirs. He's pale as a ghost and his eyelids are heavy when he tries to open them. He mumbles something incoherent his eyes widening somewhat when he sees me. He tries to sit up, reaching for me and grabbing my shoulders. I hold his wrists. His mouth opens like a fish gasping for breath. Then his eyes roll back and he goes limp.

There are tear stains trailing down his cheeks that I don't notice until I'm halfway down the hall, his listless body in my arms. The night is much less quiet now as I burst into it, screaming for help. It feels like the air around me is throbbing.

He's still bleeding and it's gotten all over me and on the asphalt below us as Mark calls 911. He's started crying. My legs are giving out, I can feel them wobbling, and I sit down before they can. Cross-legged, I set Tyler in my lap and hunch over him, face pressed into his neck and hand cradling his head. I can feel his weak pulse on my cheek. He's barely breathing. Mark is gone, I think I remember him saying something about going to get a car because an ambulance will take too long.

I haven't looked to see what the source of the bleeding is. I lift the towel. A huge gash along his stomach is all I see before I cover it back up, pressing down hard. Tyler's eyelids flutter and for a moment I think he's waking up.

He looks to be fully conscious, the first time since I found him. Tears spring to his eyes and to mine. He fumbles with the towel, trying to see his stomach. I keep it pressed down firmly and take his hands in mine. He's still so pale, I don't understand how he's even conscious. I wish he wasn't; I can't stand to see this pain in his eyes.

I press my lips to his forehead as Mark runs back. Clouds are tumbling over the moon, creating odd patches of cold light on the ground. Tyler looks like a dead, his eyelids purple and once rosy lips a ghostly shade of white. I feel like I can already see his spirit leaving him. 

Mark grabs my arm and helps me up. I carry Tyler to Mark's car. It's already running, it's headlights slicing through the light drizzle that's begun to fall. The rain is diluting the blood on the ground and washing it down into the drains and off of Tyler's face. I hadn't noticed the blood on my hands or the fact that I had gotten it on his face. I feel terrible.

The steady beat of the windshield wipers pounds into my skull. Tyler took my hand the moment we were settled in the car and he hasn't let go since. His grip is getting weaker. I rub circles on his knuckles with my thumb. My brain feels numb and eerily calm. I feel like I should be panicking and unable to think but my thoughts are so clear and my tears are silent. I barely even notice them until they drip into my mouth and I taste the salt.

The lights in the hospital are just like the lights in the venue. They've taken him away from me. He's somewhere in this hospital and I'm not next to him. He could be dead for all I know. A doctor could be on their way to tell me the bad news, sad eyes and disappointed frown already set into their face. They're not sad for me, of course, they're sad because they failed a case. They'll have to write a report on the death and that's got to be a hassle. They're disappointed in themselves. Informing me and throwing in a gentle pat on my shoulder is all just a formality.

Mark rests his hand on my knee. I was shaking it uncontrollably. I hadn't noticed. I also hadn't noticed him leave and come back with coffee. When he hands me one I don't take it. I can see a doctor coming down the hall. He's got the sad eyes and the deep frown. He's here to talk to me, I feel it in my chest before he even looks my way.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and I can feel my neck reddening the closer he gets. He reaches me and I brace myself. Tyler's gone, I know it. Just when I feel the tears welling up, the doctor starts talking to the young couple sitting next to me. Their son is dead. Their wails echo in the massive waiting room, the bone-chilling sound reverberating off of the exposed steel beams in the ceiling and the tall windows that surround us.

That could've been me. I could've been the one sobbing within an inch of my life. I could still be.

I watch their world crumble. It's almost poetic really, the way their eyes turn red and their faces pale, how tight they grip each other as their sobs rip through their throats. The doctor just stands there, hands clasped in front of him, stoically watching this couple and their deep despair. They will be forgotten come next patient. Their mourning and their sons departure will go almost completely unnoticed in this building of death. But this moment will remain seared into their memory, always at the back of their minds and affecting them until they too leave this world. They can only hope that they will see their son again when their time comes.

 

——

 

It's hours later before a doctor comes to me. Within those hours were many things. They were watching other people receive news, good and bad. They were Mark trying to make small talk with me, trying to get me to talk at all. They were a cup of coffee and half a croissant from the hospital cafeteria thrown up in a toilet. They were phone calls and sniffling noses and no tears and hearts pounding loud enough to fill my head and push all my thoughts out.

"Tyler's okay, for now. It's touch and go, we lost him for a minute on the table but we were able to bring him back."

The words get stuck in the thick air. There's no way they're true. I've already prepared myself for him to be gone, but he's not. I had played it out in my head over and over. Now I'm lost, I don't know how to react, so I sit. I sit in silence and feel the cold creep up my fingers and numb my legs and the doctor just stares at me, waiting for a reaction from me I assume.

Mark's hand on my shoulder, the light squeeze that reminds me of last night's show when Tyler did the same, is what breaks me. I snap out of my trance and the dams collapse. There's so many tears and not enough tissues on the coffee table next to me. I'll be able to hear his voice again, hold his hand again, and play a show with him again. Granted, this will take time considering the fact that he's still very unconscious when I burst into his hospital room. I will admit I'm disappointed; I wanted to hear his voice now and I'm suddenly overcome with the fear that he'll never wake up.

He looks so thin on the papery sheets. Even more fragile than he does after shows. Right now he's not the powerhouse that he is on stage, he's just Tyler. He's breakable and scared of disappointing everyone, of disappointing himself. It's the Tyler I need to protect, and I've let him down.

I stand by his bedside, taking in the machines and the strong smell of antiseptic. I lift his hand and press a kiss to it; underneath all the overwhelming hospital scents, he still smells like Tyler.

His abdomen is tightly bound in bandages. My fingers graze over them and I flinch. What happened? I don't want to think about it, I know where my mind will go. A nurse appears on the other side of his bed. She looks sad.

"It's a shame," she says quietly. I look up at her as she continues speaking, despair boiling in my stomach. "He probably did it without even thinking about how much it would hurt the people who care about him."

"How can you possibly assume he did this on purpose? What brought you to this conclusion?" I ask, fighting to keep my voice level. I dropped his hand when she came in and I ache to take it again.

She pauses writing on her clipboard. "It all adds up. Wound like this along the stomach, found alone in a bathtub in a locked room, a past of mental health issues and even a stay at a psych ward for a month when he was seventeen. It's obvious really."

I shake. "Get out."

"What?"

I point to the door. "Get out."

"I still need to do more—"

"Leave now!" I yell. A few staff outside the room stop what they're doing and look in our direction. One of them picks up the phone, dialing and watching me warily. The nurse looks at me with her mouth open, like a damn fish. I feel the tears spring up but I blink them away. The nurse leaves with a frustrated sigh, saying something about coming back in an hour. My bottom lip trembles. Mark appears in the doorway just in time to witness me break.

I'm on the floor and he's at my side in an instant. I've grabbed Tyler's hand again, my legs folded at awkward angles and my left arm still on his bed. The doctor said he could be waking up by now, but he's not, even with me loudly sobbing right next to him.

Mark rubs my back and grips my shoulder. It's that light squeeze that breaks me again. I wish people would quit doing that. At least until I know Tyler is okay, whenever that may be. I take a deep breath and peer over the edge of the bed at Tyler. Watching his chest rise and fall with every breath calms me. He's still alive, he's even breathing on his own. I squeeze his hand and will him to do the same. He doesn't.

Mark helps me to my feet and I wipe my eyes. He leads me to one of the chairs next to the bed. That is where I stay for the rest of the night and well into the morning. I've grown used to my grumbling stomach and achy neck. I don't think I could keep food down right now anyway.

Mark comes back at noon. He's been out doing business, taking care of things I would normally handle but can't even think about now.

He stands in front of me. "We've cancelled shows for the next month. We can cancel more, but we're going to cross that bridge when we get there."

I can feel the guilt already burning a hole in my stomach. All those people that we've let down. I'm going to have to explain this to them, whatever this is. What do I tell them? Do I just tweet it or is that insensitive in regards to the situation? 

My brain starts getting fuzzy and I shut my eyes. I focus on what I can hear. The steady whir of the machines monitoring Tyler. The beep of his heart monitor, each tone reminding me that Tyler is very much alive. Mark's light breaths, patiently waiting for a response from me. I nod my head. "Okay."

That's the first word he's heard from me in a while. He doesn't pressure me to speak more, just nods and sits down next to me, watching Tyler. He still hasn't moved or stirred in the slightest. He was supposed to wake up twelve hours ago.


	3. BIG TIMERS

"So you're in a band, huh?"

She's back. The nurse leans on the doorframe while I trace Tyler's knuckle with my finger.

"Yes."

"Popular?"

"I guess you could say that."

"What's the band name?"

I don't want this. I want her to leave. I don't blame Tyler for not wanting to be awake with her hovering nearby.

"Twenty One Pilots."

She hums with satisfaction and steps away, pulling out her phone. Ten minutes later, she's back.

"You're big timers aren't you?"

"Big timers?" I stop tracing his knuckles and look at her.

"You know, huge fan base, sold out shows. People spending their life savings just to be in the same room as you. You're practically immortal."

"And? Aren't you supposed to be cleaning out a bed pan somewhere?"

She huffs angrily and leaves. I know she'll be back, she's persistent. I turn back to Tyler, taking his hand in both of mine. "

She's gone now, you can stop pretending to be asleep."

He smiles tenderly. "I thought she'd never leave." His voice is still as quiet, still as hoarse, as when he first woke up.

He first stirred twenty-four hours after he was supposed to wake up. My panic had disappeared immediately when I looked up from my lap and saw him staring at me. I had joked about him always being one to do things fashionably late. He had laughed weakly and my heart had burst.

I smile at him and glance at his stomach. I can't help it, the bandages probably need changed again. I hate seeing the wound, so I always look away when they do it. Tyler notices my gaze drift and grabs my chin gently, guiding my eyes back to his.

"Are you sure you're not ready to talk about it yet?" I ask, touching his wrist lightly.

He doesn't hesitate, nodding immediately. I lean back in my chair.

"I will at some point, trust me Josh, just not right now," he murmurs.

"If not now then when? I hate the idea of rumors spreading. I don't even know what to tell everyone."

Tyler shakes his head. "Tell them there was an accident. That's all they need to know right now."

"Can you at least tell me if you were—," I pause. My throat is tight. I can barely get the words out. "if you were trying to kill yourself?"

Tyler closes his eyes. "Yes and no."

"That doesn't help much."

"It's all you're going to get from me right now." Tyler peers at me through his lashes. "Have even you left this room since we got here? Every time I've opened my eyes you've been right here next to me."

"Mark has been coming by with food and news. I don't need to leave."

Tyler smiles and presses his face into his pillow. "You also don't need to stay here."

"Yeah, but I want to." I don't mention the fact that I'm terrified that as soon as I leave he's going to flatline and I'll really lose him.

The room falls quiet. There's pinky sunlight slanting in through the blinds on the window. Tyler's eyes are hidden in shadow and his lips bathed in the rosy hues of the setting sun. Perfectly kissable, yet I don't. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever.

I think he's fallen asleep. His mouth is slightly open, eyes closed and eyelids flickering. His breathing is shallow and his fingers are twitching. I know a nightmare when I see one. My hand is cold when I press it to his cheek. He snaps awake.

"Don't let me sleep." His eyes are scared.

"You know I can't do that."

He places his hand on mine and brings it to his chest. "Please stay."

I crawl into bed with him and wrap my arms around him. Safety. His touch is always safe, no matter where we are. He is home. The fluttering lashes, the warm eyes, the perfect nose.

Somehow he's already fallen asleep again. The vent above the bed blows directly on us. I pull the thin blanket tighter around him. He's shaking. I'll never leave him, I couldn't.

 

 

—

 

 

"This food is disgusting."

"I'm sorry, this is a hospital not a five-star restaurant." I smirk.

Tyler lifts his spoon as if he's going to catapult some of his pudding at me. I cover my face with my hands. He laughs loud. He's been laughing a lot today, both of us have. It feels good.

The internet has become a dangerous place for me to venture. It's full of questions I don't have the answers to and criticism I can't bear to read. They don't know the full story. What's happened has become known as "the accident." A tag full of love and support for Tyler and I has been trending on Twitter, but even that's hard for me to read.

My phone is on one of the tables in the hospital room, turned off and ignored. Tyler hasn't touched his since he first woke up a three days ago. The last time we talked about the night of the accident was two days ago. My curiosity and worry has been eating away at me but I've managed to keep my mouth shut about it.

Tyler slaps his empty pudding cup on his tray. "Done. Now you can't get mad at me for not eating."

Rain pounds against the windows.

"I suppose you're right," I say, throwing his pudding cup in the trash by the door. When I turn around Tyler pats the space next to him on the bed. Thunder booms as I sit.

"When do you think we can go back on stage?" he asks. His eyes are big. I know he misses it as much as I do.

"That's up to you and your doctor. But at least another two weeks, you need to give your stomach time to heal."

Tyler frowns and scratches at his stitches. He rests his head on my chest.

"You don't smell as good as you did four days ago," he says, voice muffled by my shirt.

"I promise I've taken a shower between then and now."

"Let me guess, it was when I was unconscious."

"Probably. You sleep a lot you know."

Tyler hums. "I hear it's good to sleep when you're healing."

I close my eyes and feel myself drifting off. We're still in the same position when I'm woken up by the heart monitor screeching in my ear and someone slamming the door open. My clothes are covered in something sticky, I can feel it cold against my skin. There's crimson everywhere. I can't breathe anymore, if I do I smell the blood.

Pushed off the bed, I watch them lift his shirt. They had finally let him wear his own clothes instead of the hospital gown and they're ruined now.

The stitches broke, he bled for so long and I didn't even notice. I slept through it all. He almost died. Again. I was right there and had no idea. Again. I can't tear my eyes away from the carnage even though it brings bile to my throat and tears to my eyes.

 _Practically immortal._ I'm painfully reminded how untrue that really is.


	4. CANDOR

The doctors say they aren't surprised Tyler's stitches broke. Why they didn't warn me of this is a mystery.

I watch Tyler breathe. He's comatose again, expected to awake within the next few hours. I miss his voice. It made this whole situation and this room feel much less lonely.

He coughs and it startles me out of my trance. His eyes flicker open. This time is different than the last. I'm not as relieved, I'm still just as terrified. Last time I had convinced myself that, because he woke up and was talking and laughing and back to his old self, everything would be okay. That he would be okay. I knew we weren't completely out of the woods, but I didn't think that I would have to sit through another agonizing surgery and wait hours and hours at his bedside, praying for him to wake up again. This time I feel as though I'm just waiting for the next complication, the next surgery.

Tyler looks at me. "I didn't die."

I blink. "No, you didn't."

"Okay. It felt like I did."

Mark gets up and leaves the room. Tyler grabs his bed's remote and adjusts it so he's propped up. He winces when his abdomen bends.

"We're not going back on stage for a while, are we?"

"No." My bottom lip quivers. Tyler lets his head fall back out his pillow with a sigh. He instinctively reaches up to twist his hair between his fingers. A nervous habit of his for as long as I can remember.

"How are they taking all of this?"

He doesn't have to explain, I immediately know who he's talking about. "There's a lot of theories as to what happened. But that's expected, they're known for being theorists. You've certainly made that a big part of their experience."

Tyler smiles. "I've always gotta keep them on their toes. Leave them expecting the unexpected."

"I think by now they just want the truth. They're worried about you Tyler."

His smile fades. "I know. I'll make a post soon."

I'm quick to change the subject. "Were you awake at all last night after I fell asleep?" I feel a chill settle in my heart. I don't want what I'm thinking to be true.

"Once. It was right after the stitches broke. I sat there with my hand on my stomach, watching the blood go between my fingers. I couldn't make my voice work, so I just watched until I passed out."

It scares me how easily he says this. There's no stutter, no pause. He says it so casually, like he's talking about what he had for breakfast. I look at his hands, as if I'm expecting there to still be bloodstains on them. There isn't any blood, but I can still see the line where his ring used to be. He still won't talk about her, even though it's been months since it happened. That was the last time we were at a hospital.

My chest tightens when I think about her. Like it's being filled with water and my lungs can't compete with the pressure. If I feel like this when I think about her, like I will never be able to breathe properly again, how must Tyler feel? She was his wife, the love of his life. He had a future planned with her, they had been discussing kids. He'll never have that family with her now. None of us will ever hear her soft laugh or see her sunshine smile. How is his heart even still beating?

I blink and look at him, laying on this bed with tears slipping from his eyes and pooling in his ears. The sight reminds me of that night even more. All it took was one drunk driver for Tyler's life to be over. He was on the bus too, along with several crew members, but they all made it out with only a few injuries. Sure they were serious, but nothing like Jenna's. They're all still here, after all.

He wipes his eyes and takes a rattling breath. "It was right after my shower," he starts.

I sit up, staring at him in a way that's probably unsettling. He doesn't notice.

"I had finished drying off and gotten dressed and started making some dinner in the microwave. I guess the show wore me out more than I thought it did, because the moment I laid down on the couch I fell asleep."

He stops. His fingers start to fidget with the bed sheets. I reach over to hold his hand but he moves it before I can, nestling his fingers in his hair and twisting the locks. He closes his eyes and continues.

"When I woke up, I wasn't alone. I thought it was you or one of the crew at first, coming to get me so we could leave, but the silhouette was all wrong. I don't know who it was, but he must've worked at the venue because he was wearing their staff uniform. Then I noticed that my pants were around my ankles."

He stops playing with his hair, opting to cover his eyes with his hands instead. I'm gripping the arms of my chair, my knuckles white.

"What did he do, Tyler?" I ask when he doesn't speak for a few moments.

"I-I wasn't raped, okay?" His hands fall to his sides and he looks at me with pale eyes.

"I didn't say you were," I say calmly, even though my heart is pounding in my ears.

Tyler runs his lip under his teeth. He nibbles on it until a bead of blood appears. Then, he's crying. It's not like the crying that he's been doing on-and-off since we got here, it's wailing and hyperventilating and tears that never stop. I take this as my cue to climb into bed with him again. He turns so his face is pressed into my chest and I hold him close, my hands rubbing circles on his back.

If I close my eyes and ignore the sporadic beeps and the chatter outside the room, I can imagine we're back on the tour bus, curled in a bunk together. Comforting Tyler like this isn't abnormal, but out of all the times I've done this before, this is the first time I haven't at least partially understood what he's going through. This is the first time that I don't know what to do. This scares me more than any dark alley or massive crowd. This is when Jenna would swoop in and take over, helping me say the right things and even talking Tyler down herself. Now I have to do this without her, and that terrifies me. There's rain hitting the window again, and Tyler's pillow is wet with tears from both of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an example of my non-existent updating schedule!! i'm sorry this took me so long, i really have no excuse but i will say that school really sucks. i feel like the ending of this chapter is a bit rushed, but i really wanted to get it posted for you guys so i hope you can forgive me. thank you for reading!! <3


	5. HANDS

Tyler is screaming.

 

Tyler is _screaming_.

 

_Tyler_ _is_ _screaming_.

 

I jerk awake and fumble for his hand. As soon as I touch him he pushes me off and screams some more. It's then that I realize he's actually screaming words.

 

"Get them off! Get them _off_!"

 

I stand by his bed. "What? The sheets?"

 

I pull the paper-thin sheets off of him.

 

Tyler calms down enough to stop screaming. He shakes his head frantically. "No, _no_ , the _hands_! Get the hands off of me!"

 

I stutter and watch him wiping his arms with his hands. I catch on and start brushing away invisible handprints on his thighs. He stops trembling. He's curled into himself now, legs against his chest and forehead resting on his knees. He sniffles. I don't touch him. I just stand by him and wait.

 

A few minutes later, his sobs have quieted and he unfurls himself. His eyes are red and his face is splotchy.

 

"Can I touch you?" I ask.

 

He nods, lips pressed together and pale. I sit next to him and wrap him up in my arms.

 

I open my mouth but Tyler speaks before I can say anything.

 

"I don't know if I can't remember, or just don't want to remember what he did." His voice is thick and I feel his words vibrate in my chest as he presses his face into my shirt.

 

"You don't have to remember, Ty." I rest my chin on his head. His hair tickles my lips. They'll be pleased to know that he's been letting it grow.

 

I feel Tyler's jaw go slack, his breath warming my chest. I don't have to look to know he's asleep. His pulse is slow and steady and so is his breathing.

 

A nurse had rushed to the room when he started screaming and his heart monitor started going awol. She stands in the doorway, watching us, waiting to see if she is needed. I look at her and she nods her head in understanding. He's okay, for now. She leaves us alone.

 

I press my face into the space between Tyler's head and my chest. It's warm there.

 

"You're safe," I whisper into his tired ears. I don't know if he hears me. I hope he does.


End file.
